


I Get By (With a Little Help From My Friends)

by AnaliseGrey



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Arm caught in a trap, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Emetophobia, Gen, Vomiting, Whump, Widojest if you squint towards the end, can be read platonically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 19:35:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: It happens so quickly Caleb doesn’t understand at first what’s happened.One moment he’s rooting through the underbrush searching for a plant for Caduceus, and the next there’s a loud metallicclangfollowed by the subtlersnapof his right forearm giving way.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 278





	I Get By (With a Little Help From My Friends)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "With a Little Help From My Friends" by the Beatles

It happens so quickly Caleb doesn't understand at first what's happened.

One moment he’s rooting through the underbrush searching for a plant for Caduceus, and the next there’s a loud metallic _clang_ followed by the subtler _snap_ of his right forearm giving way.

The pain is immediate and excruciating, doubling him over on the forest floor with a strangled scream, and for a second all he can do is lay there and shake. The movement jostles the trap and his vision swims alarmingly, nausea roiling in his gut as the metal teeth bite into flesh and grind against bone.

The pain is overwhelming; it’s hard to think past, the white noise of it drowning him. He knows he needs to _do_ something, that every minute that passes increases the chance for permanent debilitation, blood poisoning, nerve damage, or worse. Taking a deep breath, he braces himself, and looks at his arm to assess the injury.

The trap isn’t too large, probably meant for wolves, and has been here for awhile from the look of it. The parts of it he can see are covered in rust, and his stomach churns again, knowing that’s likely also true of the parts embedded in his arm. The sharp teeth of it are latched on firmly halfway up his forearm, and he’s thankful it didn’t catch him lower, wasn’t bigger- he might have lost his hand entirely in one fell swoop. As it is, his arm is bent at an unnatural angle, blood already flowing into the grass and rotting leaves the trap was hidden under.

He breathes, settling himself before making an attempt to get loose. He doesn’t expect it to work, and it doesn’t; the grip of the trap is strong, and the fact that he’s trying to open it one-handed only further handicaps him. He does try, though- he grips as best he can at the top of the trap and braces a foot against the bottom of the trap’s jaws, hoping to better his chances. All his efforts get him is the feel of metal teeth gnashing against bone, and he has to turn to the side to vomit, black spots dancing in his vision.

Once he’s recovered, he moves on to his next option. He listens, but doesn’t hear anything. If his earlier scream didn’t garner attention, the others might be just out of earshot. With a shaking hand, he reaches into his coat for his bit of copper wire. It’s a stretch- he usually keeps the components he uses most on his right side, where his dominant hand is- and he moves slowly so to be careful not to drop it.

He gets ready to cast, and realizes that to make the proper somatic gesture with the wire he needs both hands. He gives himself another moment, then leans forward, angling around so he can get a loose grip on the wire with his injured hand. Biting back any noise of pain, he uses his pinky to point in the direction he last saw the rest of the Nein, and hopes they’re in range. His first inclination is to target Nott- his first thought when things go wrong is usually to seek her out. They trust each other, and of the Mighty Nein, she’s the one he’s known the longest. But just as he’s about to send the Message, he realizes it would be a mistake. She would try, he knows she would, but she probably wouldn’t be strong enough to open the trap, and he doesn’t know how much help he’ll really be. At the last second, he switches his intended target.  
  
“Jester?” He sounds strained, despite his attempts to control it, to stay calm and keep his voice even. “If you are nearby, I could use your assistance.”

“Caleb!” He gives a shuddering sigh of relief as her voice comes back to him. “Of course! What do you need? Did you grab too many flowers? Do you need-” The time limit on the spell cuts her off, and he casts again, biting down on the sound that wants to slip past his lips as he manipulates the wire.

“Ah, no, not too many flowers. Though I do need your muscles, if you’d be so kind. I am in the woods, north of camp.”

“Okay! On my way- if you hear me yelling, just, you know, call out or something so I know where you are!”

With that her voice cuts out again, and he returns the wire to one of his pockets with a shaking hand. That done, he uses his good hand to brace on the ground. He can’t stand, and can’t easily sit without moving his trapped arm, and so settles to wait on his knees, bent partway over. It’s uncomfortable, and by the time he starts to hear Jester’s voice carry through the woods he’s wondering if it wouldn’t be preferable to just pass out for awhile.

“Caaaaaaayleb...where aaaaaaaaaaaare yoooooooooou?”

“I am here.”

A few moments later and she’s crashing through the brush, and he sees it the moment she registers what’s happened, the bright grin sliding right off her face into horrified shock.

“Oh no!” She moves closer, kneeling down in the grass so she’s right next to him and sucks in a breath as she gets a better look at his arm. “Well fuck.”

He breathes a mildly hysterical laugh. “ _Ja_ , that is about the sum of it. I tried to get it open myself, but well, I am a noodle, Jester, I didn’t have much luck.”

She bites her lower lip between her teeth in thought, a small furrow appearing between her eyebrows before she nods decisively, and pushes her sleeves up out of her way.

“Okay, okay, okay...I can definitely get it open, maybe. Once I have it open, you just...pull your arm out, yeah?”

“ _Ja_ , easy.”

She moves around to the other side so they’re not in each other’s way, and gets a grip on the top and bottom of the trap. “Ready?”

Before he can answer she pulls, muscles bulging and knuckles going whitish-blue. For a moment, he thinks she’ll be able to do it- he bites back a groan as he feels the metal teeth shift in his arm- but just as he’s getting ready to lift his arm up and out, she makes a startled ‘ _oh!_ ’ sound the barest second before her fingers slip and the trap snaps back down into place, his arm still inside.

He does pass out for a few seconds this time because he comes back to awareness on the forest floor, his trapped arm an agonizing throb where it’s been further strained by the odd angle of his collapse.

“Oh- oh no, _Caleb_ , I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to- _oh Traveler_ …” Jester is muttering above him, her hands fluttering over him like she’s afraid to touch him.

“It’s- it is alright, Jester.” He hardly recognizes his own voice, and he wonders if he was screaming before he blacked out; his throat feels raw, so he may well have. Getting his good hand under himself, he starts the painful process of pushing back up to his knees. Jester helps, her face a mask of concern and guilt, and he tries again to reassure her.

“Jester, it’s alright. You will get it this next time.”

Her expression clouds, and she grabs onto the trap again.

“This time for sure, Caleb. Get ready.”

She pulls, face scrunching with effort, and after a tense few seconds, the trap starts to open with a rusty creak.

He swallows down the urge to vomit again at the sensation of the metal teeth pulling free, at the tug and pull of them as Jester moves the top half of the trap enough to free of his arm. He can’t help the cry of pain as he gets his arm loose from the damned thing, pulling it up and off of the teeth on the lower half of the trap.

Once his arm is clear Jester lets go, and it snaps closed again with a metallic clang that sets Caleb’s teeth on edge. Now that he’s free, he lets himself fall the rest of the way to the ground, curled in around his injured arm. It’s pulsing with agony, the punctures stinging and the grinding of shattered bone more than he can think about in the moment.

“Caleb, I’m going to heal you now, is that okay?”

She has to touch him to fix it- he knows she does, it’s how it’s been since they met, and normally it’s not an issue, but just the thought of anything touching his arm makes him want to crawl into a deep hole somewhere and never come out. But if she doesn’t heal it, it will remain as it is until it gets _worse_ , and if it gets worse he could well loose the arm, and then where would he be? He’s had to cast one-handed before, and while it’s possible, it certainly isn’t preferable.

“Caleb...?”

“ _Ja_ , just...just a moment.”

He breathes, pulling himself together as best he can, drawing on past experience- ‘ _They will do anything they can to stop you, to slow you down. Are you going to let a little something like pain stop you, Ermendrud? Are you going to let something so paltry as a broken bone get in your way? You are going to rise up to protect the Empire. The only thing that should stop you is death, and even then, make them_ **_work_ ** _for it.’-_ and shoves the pain aside. It’s separate from him, now; acting on him, but not controlling him.

“Alright, Jester. Do your thing.”

She gives him a look, but reaches out, placing her hands on his arm as gently as she can, the cool of her fingertips soothing against the hot agony of his arm even before she starts casting. She closes her eyes, whispers a prayer, and as she does her holy symbol lights up, her hands glowing a swirling blue-green. The effect is almost instantaneous, and he holds back a whimper as the bones shift and realign in his arm. He can feel it the moment they snap back together, and while it feels better, it’s also deeply unsettling. As he watches, the punctures heal over, turning from awful gaping wounds into raised pink lines, cutting across the long-healed and faded marks that already mar his arm. Only the still-fresh blood washed over his pale skin gives any sign that he’s been recently injured.

Taking a shuddering breath, Caleb steadies himself, ignoring the sick churn of adrenaline that still courses through him with no outlet.

“Thank you, Jester. Your help is much appreciated.”

Brow furrowing in concern, she tentatively reaches for him, her hands landing on his shoulders when he doesn’t flinch back.

“Are you alright, Caleb? That was, well, a _lot_ , and you’re still kind of pale, you know?”

Glancing up, he catches her gaze, violet eyes staring wide and worried back at him. Dredging a smile up from somewhere, he aims for reassuring.

“I am fine, Jester. Just a little shaken. Not to worry.”

She smiles back, the look warm and far more genuine than he knows his own to be.

“Well, you know if you ever _weren’t_ fine, that’s okay too, right?” She gives his shoulder a squeeze and looks at him so earnestly that he feels the edges of his lips turn up in response.

“ _Ja_ , Jester, I know,” he says softly, his smile warming further. “Thank you.” He puts a shaking hand over hers on his shoulder and gives it a pat before pushing to his feet, catching himself with a hand on her arm as he sways. “Let’s get back to camp, I think perhaps Mr. Clay’s herbs will need to wait until tomorrow.”

She grins at him, slinging an arm around his waist to help him on the way back to camp, and a fond warmth blooms in his chest that drowns out the last of the shivery adrenaline coursing through him.


End file.
